The Mirrors In The Room Go Black And Blue کے بول

On a Sunday morning in her Saturday shoes We don't choose who we love We don't choose The lights over the Midway melt on the street In a Sunday shoes, with her Saturday feet She don't love who he choose She don't need what she use Daylight comes and exposes Saturday's bruises and cold roses Cold roses Nothing but the sunlight will help you grow From underneath your bed you can't see the window We don't choose what we see We don't choose Fortunate and angry just like a child All that money buys you medicine but can't buy you time We don't choose what we love And she don't need what she got Daylight comes and exposes Saturday's bruises and cold roses Cold roses Cold roses Cold roses